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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759452">watch how he brings me back to life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vxle/pseuds/vxle'>vxle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Good Boyfriend Steve Rogers, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, I can't speak in anything else than poetry I'm so sorry, I don't even get it myself, M/M, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, The Author Regrets Nothing, if you get this you're impressive, ill go to sleep now, thats what she said, the author needs to go tf to sleep it's been a week, this is so short help</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:47:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vxle/pseuds/vxle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And then they ask, do you know who he is. And the world crashes down at the bottom of the metallic stretcher you are strapped to, the world lays at your feet and smiles up at you, the world has eyes like the stretching dawn and a tragedy written on every inch of his skin. They don’t dare to utter his name; they don’t need to. They say him, and you see gasping breaths in the winter air and bony hands, charcoal stains. You see bloody sheets, a tired grin and cold lips against your knuckles, you see the colour blue. Safe, safe safe. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>watch how he brings me back to life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Do you know who you are</em>, they ask. Their tone is sharp and snapping. They’re all heavy blinding flashes and steady gloved hands, freezing instruments against skin - your skin, except it doesn’t feel that way. You do not have a physical form, you shift through air like cigarette smoke and slither your way inside the cracks. Nothing is yours, nor it has ever been. You do not own.</p><p> </p><p>Yet they press on, <em>do you know who you are</em>, and you want to say, I am the shadows of the nightfall and the shape of the snowflakes, I am everything breathless and cold, I am what they made me and nothing else. But you don’t. You don’t, because your tongue is heavy with the lies you could not tell, it is filled with blood that isn’t yours and you know that if you dare to speak it will come bubbling out of your mouth and down your chin.</p><p> </p><p>And then they ask, <em>do you know who he is. </em>And the world crashes down at the bottom of the metallic stretcher you are strapped to, the world lays at your feet and smiles up at you, the world has eyes like the stretching dawn and a tragedy written on every inch of his skin. They don’t dare to utter his name; they don’t need to. They say <em>him</em>, and you see gasping breaths in the winter air and bony hands, charcoal stains. You see bloody sheets, a tired grin and cold lips against your knuckles, you see the colour blue. Safe, safe safe.</p><p> </p><p>It isn’t until the memories bring you back that you realise why they did not need to say his name. The world is there and it’s breathing, the world is broad and has a crease between his eyebrows. He has been asleep for so long, you have been too, but the world is finally back, Dear God, he is back. It’s been seventy years but his eyes still sparkle with all the secrets you laid onto him over the years, paint stains and freckled back. It’s been seventy fucking years, yet they feel like seconds because when he smiles, his cheek still dimples on the right side and his eyes still crinkle and you think, <em>there you are</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You do not own, yet the tears are there and they’re <em>yours</em>.</p>
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